


The Domestication of The Wolf

by TheWriterinFlannel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Baseball Player Derek Hale, Baseball Player Stiles Stilinski, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Derek is Scary, Jackson is a Little Shit, M/M, Stiles is kind of a creep, Werewolf Derek Hale, like women, not facial hair, talk of beards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterinFlannel/pseuds/TheWriterinFlannel
Summary: This fic was requested by introvertedshipperoflife: A sterek fic but a Highschool AU where Derek is not a bully but is intimidating and meanish to everyone ( while still being popular-ish? If that makes sense) but Stiles because he is totally in love with Stiles but Stiles is oblivious to it all. Feel free to add Scott being a bad friend and getting jealous that Stiles gets to hang with the popular people when be and Derek finally get together.





	1. It Starts With Friendship

Derek is rummaging through his locker after lunch when he sees Stilinski. He’s just across the hall, chatting it up with his best friend, Scott. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, lips pink and soft, and Derek has to stop himself from staring. Laura would have laughed at him for this, no doubt. Derek turns back to his locker, grabbing his books and trying to act like he isn't listening in on Stilinski’s conversation.

“Do you think she’d go to the dance with me?”

“No, Stilinski. This is Lydia you’re talking about.”

Derek stops listening there; he doesn’t want to hear about Stilinski’s undying love for Lydia Martin. The sweet, musky tang of Stilinski’s arousal smells disgusting in Derek’s nose now that he knows Lydia caused it. And now Derek will have to smell it through the next two classes he shares with Stilinski.

Derek lets out an angered huff and slams his locker closed, not wanting to deal with anything right now. He only feels bad when he sees Stilinski jump at the noise, scared, but he’s too upset to care. He continues down the hall, wearing what Cora calls his “I’ll Murder You” face, and hopes to get the seat farthest away from Stilinski.

Derek isn’t so lucky; the seat in the far corner of the class has been taken by Greenberg of all fucking people, and the only other open seats would be the one next to Stilinski’s favorite spot and the chair next to Lydia. Derek chooses Greenberg.

When he sits, Greenberg curls up closer to the window. Derek raises a bushy eyebrow at him and, in all honesty, Greenberg whimpers. Derek rolls his eyes and pulls out his notebook; he doesn't have time for people who are terrified of him. He doesn’t even know why people are scared of him. Derek’s never done anything scary. Maybe it’s his clothes; he wears a lot of dark colors, but only because he likes them. And his mother bought him these boots; they’re comfy and they look good, so, why shouldn’t he wear them?

Derek sighs. Whatever.

*

Class drags out for the rest of the day, so Derek is more than happy when the last bell rings. He makes his way through the crowd and straight to the boys’ locker room. Isaac and Boyd are already there, getting ready for lacrosse practice. Derek gives them each a quick hug, before pulling his baseball gear from his locker. 

“Heard tryouts are today,” Derek says to Isaac, pulling off his street clothes. The other teen shrugs.

“Yeah. Whittemore is gonna tear those fuckers to shred,” Isaac laughs. “He’s already singled out McCall today at lunch.”

Derek remembers that; Jackson had left their usual table, pushing past Stilinski, to hiss in McCall’s ear. Derek hadn’t been paying attention enough to hear what had said.

“You know anyone else who’s trying out?”

“Yeah, uh I think Greenberg is trying; a couple of sophomores, too. I thought Stilinski was going to, but he’s already doing cross country so he might not be there.”

Derek nods, pulling his jersey over his head. He tries to ignore the fact that Isaac knew to bring up Stilinski. It wasn’t like he was obsessed or anything; he just, uh, appreciates Stilinski’s form or whatever. Yeah, that’s it; he appreciates Stilinski’s form.

“Aren’t baseball tryouts today, too,” Boyd mentions. 

Oh shit, “Yeah, they are,” Derek replies, latching his baseball belt.

“Are you excited?”

“Oh hell yeah.” Derek has always loved baseball tryouts. He loves seeing people put their all into the sport he loves. “I don’t know who’s trying out,” Derek continues, “but I can’t fucking wait.”

Isaac laughs at Derek’s excitement, slipping on his cleats. 

*

Stiles has only talked to Derek Hale twice in his life. The first time, when he had first met Cora, and the second time… the second time is right now.

“Stilinski?” 

Stiles looked up from where he’s tying his shoelace to see Derek looking directly at him, utterly confused. 

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re trying out? For baseball?”

Stiles swallows thickly. “Yes?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

Stiles shoots up from his kneeling position and scratches at his nape. “An answer. It’s an answer. I, Stiles Stilinski, am trying out for baseball. It’s, uh, I - I like the sport, I guess.” Stiles watches as Derek's eyebrows shift in what seems to be anger. “Well, I don’t guess. I, um, I definitely love baseball, but I. You know what? I’m just going to shut up.”

Derek’s eyebrows are still knitted together, so Stiles isn’t actually sure if shutting up is helping him. But when Derek wishes him good luck in trying out, Stiles has to assume that it did.

Stiles feels amazing after his turn warming up at the bat. Sure, he’s just hitting off a tee, but the look of amazement on Derek’s face when a lacrosse player came back to return the ball made Stiles beam. They went through more drills after that: Hitting 10 balls in a row (this time they were being pitched) and base-running drills that made Stiles appreciate every second he had spent on the Cross Country team. It was the fielding drills that knocked Stiles down a peg; his perfect streak is ruined when he misses two balls in a row. Derek is quick to move on to the next person

Things get a bit better during the pitching drills. The coach – not Finstock thank god –  has him stand on the mound, sans ball, and wind up. She makes him pause midway through and just balance. She hands him a ball after she deems his balancing acceptable, and lets him fire at his target (aka Derek at the bat). Derek catches the ball with ease, face blank, but the coach looks proud. Stiles takes it as a win.

Stiles talks to Derek for the third time after they’ve gotten dressed and left the locker room. Well, it’s more like Derek talked to Stiles. 

“You did good, Stilinski. See you at practice next week.” And then he’s gone, fancy Camaro peeling out of the parking lot. Stiles guesses he’ll see Derek next week.

*

Stiles does not see Derek next week. No, he sees the next day, in the Chemistry class he forgot they had together. Harris decided that today was going to be a lab day and the class would work in multiple groups of two. Groups Harris had the generosity, note the sarcasm, to choose beforehand.

“Stilinski and Hale, you’re together.” This would be fine.

This is not fine.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Derek. I didn’t mean to,” Stiles gestures wildly at the mess he’s made, a stain of their water/food coloring mixture bright on Derek’s white shirt. The entire class is struggling to hold in their laughter and Harris looks like he’s going to wring Stilinski neck. 

Derek lets out a growl, and Stilinski brings his hands up to protect his face, sure he’s going to get punched.

“It’s alright.”

Stilinski peeks from between his fingers, “What?”

“I said it’s okay. I have an extra shirt in my locker and this,” Derek points to the spreading blue stain on his torso, “can easily come out when I do laundry.”

Stilinski nods dumbly at that. It’s okay, everything is okay.

*

Derek becomes less scary as the week creeps on; he waves to Stiles in the halls and doesn’t glare at him during lunch. They talk, too – in between classes and during free periods. They mostly talk about their mutual hate for Harris and love of baseball, but sometimes Derek will let something slip about his family. They’re talking about Cora today; Derek brought up the fact that she’d be catching a ride with him after practice.

“I haven’t talked to her in a while,” Stiles admitted. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, Cora just didn’t seem to like Stiles anymore. She’s about two years younger, but they had always gotten along as kids.

“Yeah, I donʻt think she likes you very much,” Derek confirms. “I think it’s because of the whole Lydia thing.” Stiles raises an eyebrow and Derek continues. “You’re kind of obsessed.  It’s a little off-putting.” From the look on Derek’s face, Stiles can tell that his “thing with Lydia” is super off-putting and Derek is just trying to be nice. Stiles cringes a little. He knows he’s a bit… intense about his admiration, but he didn’t know it had gotten this bad. Stiles felt his stomach roll and his cheeks heat. 

“I - Oh God, you must think I’m a creep or something.”

“No, no I don’t. Sure, that thing is creepy, but you’re pretty cool when you’re not going on and on about Lydia’s hair or whatever. Like, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you get out of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you get out of fawning over her like that? She ignores you, it makes other people avoid you, and it makes you a prime target for Jackass Whittledick.”

Stiles snickers at the nickname, but does think about what Derek says. He didn’t get anything out of it really. Stiles had just latched on to the idea of the perfect girl when he was younger and he still hasn’t let go. It’s easier to explain to his dad, and to everyone else around him, why he didn’t have a girlfriend if he was fawning over a girl that will never like him. He tells Derek that much.

“Is she, like, a beard?”

“You mean am I gay?”

Derek has the decency to flush a little bit, right up to his ears.

“Nah, I’m definitely bi, though. It’s a bit sixty-forty women to men.”

Derek nods, doesn’t run off screaming or calling Stiles a whore, but he doesn’t meet Stiles's eyes. “Is that a problem?”

That causes Derek to jump into action, “NO! I mean, sorry, no. I just, I’m bi, too. I like men a little more, though.” Stiles lets out a little chuckle, a bright smile spreading across his face. “Good, because I need someone to talk to about boys. Scott gets weird about it.”

*

Stiles is pressed against a locker, Jackson angrily hissing in his face, when Derek gets to school the next day. He’s quick to make his way over, eyebrows drawn down in what he wants to be his “I’ll Murder You” face. Stiles’s eyes are panicked when they meet Derek’s, and Derek’s vision goes gold for a quick second. Derek reals his instincts back in and shoves at Jackson’s shoulder.

“Who the fuc-” Jackson shuts up when he sees that Derek is the one who pushed him. “What do you want, Hale?” Jackson is trying to keep his cool, but Derek can smell his fear.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Stilinski needs to back off my girlfriend.”

Dere looked at Stiles, who raised his hand in defense. “I was trying to apologize. I’ve kind of been a creep and I’m wanted to say sorry.”

With that, Derek looks at Jackson. “So, Stiles – my friend by the way – wanted to apologize for the wrong he’s done, so you’re going to beat him up for that?” Jackson looks at Derek dumbly, thinking over what was said. “I-” he starts, but stops with a groan. “Fine, whatever.” Jackson shoves Stiles one more time before walking off.

Before he can get far, Derek calls out, “Jackson, don't touch my friends again. I’ll break your face next time.” And Derek is serious.


	2. Love at First Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Derek, and food.

Stiles can’t believe his life. He knows his mouth is gaping, opening and closing like a fish as Erica steers him away from his usual lunch table. She sinks him into the seat next to Derek, who is already having an easy conversation with Erica’s boyfriend, Boyd. Boyd is nice, Stiles thinks. The other teen isn’t exceptionally kind, don’t get Stiles wrong, but he doesn't ignore Stiles’s existence they way other students do. He’s nice.

To be honest, Stiles is more worried about Isaac Lahey. The kid doesn't seem to like him in the least, always glaring at Stiles with a feral, less-than-impressed look on his face. He has that look on his face now, as he says something Stiles assumes has been directed at him. Did Lahey ask him something?

“Uh, sorry. What?”

“I said are you going to get lunch or did you bring your own.” Stiles raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment, “Uh, yeah.” Stiles realizes that he isn’t being specific and quickly adds, “I’m going to get lunch.”

“What do you want,” Derek asks. Stiles smiles at him, “Maybe that cool pasta thing they have. It was good the last time I tried it. Ooo and the garlic bread thing they have.” Derek nods, standing. 

“Where are you going,” Stiles asks, gesturing to the brown bag with “Derek” scrawled across the front.

“To get your pasta.”

“Derek, you really don’t-” but Derek cut’s Stiles off. “It’s alright. Let me get it,” he insists, voice soft and warm in a way Stiles wasn’t expecting. Predictably, Stiles’s cheeks flush. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he stutters out quietly.

Stiles is left there with Lahey and Erica, and he is terrified. This is a test; Derek is scoping him out, testing his worth. “So,” Stiles starts awkwardly, “I don’t really know you guys, and I know you guys have never talked to me – outside of Boyd – so I know that there are gonna be questions about why I’m hanging out with Derek. Uh, fire away I guess.”

Isaac scoffs, but he asks the first question. “Why are you hanging out with Derek all of a sudden? Not even a month ago you were running from him.”

Stiles tries to hide his face at that… because it's true. Stiles isn’t the strongest person at Beacon High, and Derek’s outward persona is immensely intimidating. Who could blame Stiles for avoiding the quote-unquote biggest fish? He was just protecting himself.

Stiles tries to sputter out an answer. “Well, I, I mean he – I knew his sister when we were younger. She doesn’t like me much now, but I guess Derek and I are catching up.”

Erica’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You know Cora?”

“Well, we don’t really talk much. I kind of ditched her to follow Lydia around when we were kids. She hasn’t forgiven me, but I wouldn’t forgive me either.”

“But, that doesn’t really explain why you’re here,” Isaac points out, tapping his finger on the lunch table. 

“Honestly, man, I don’t know why I’m here. I guess Derek wants me to know his other friends,” stiles shrugs. “I would want my new friends to meet my other friends.”

Erica scoffs this time, “You do that with significant others, Stilinski, not new friends.”

“But Derek doesn’t–”

“Derek doesn’t what?” the three teens jump as Derek slides Stiles his tray of pasta. “Oh, it’s nothing,” Isaac covers. The topic changes, not that Derek and Boyd are back, and Stiles tries to eat his pasta in silence

*

Derek can’t hold back the frown that spreads across his face when Stiles sits with Scott the next day. He’s got a sandwich today, and Derek thinks that Stiles deserves something better than that plain old sandwich.

“How about you take him out to eat?”

Derek looks up at Boyd. “What?” 

“You were thinking out loud,” Boyd says matter-of-factly. Derek rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the fact that he’s blushing. “Like a date?”

“Yes, Derek, like a date.” Boyd looks like he wants to punch Derek in the face, and the teen is happy that he refrains. “I don’t know, Boyd. What if he says no?”

“Then you can stop pining after the scrawny fuck,” Isaac buts in. Derek’s eyebrows draw down at the comment, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Boyd. “If he says no,” his friend starts, then he says no. There’s no reason to be so caught up on him if he doesn’t want you.”

Derek nods solemnly, but Boyd is right. Derek can’t get too caught up on Stiles. So what if he says no, Derek is his own man and doesn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy. He says that much to Boyd and the other teen smiles. “You’re damn right!”

With that, Derek is out of his seat. The crowd around him parts like a school of fish around a shark, and Derek makes his way over to Stiles. Scott’s eyes meet his before Derk can get within five feet of the table, but Stiles is oblivious like the sweet doe he is. It isn’t until Derek sits next to Stiles, that the teen notices him.

“Oh, hey, Derek.” Stiles’s smile is sweet and blinding and Derek wants to swim in the scent of Stiles’s happiness.

“So,” Derek starts, “I was thinking.”

“That’s never good,” Stiles laughs. Derek rolls his eyes and starts again. “I was thinking, maybe we could go to Connie’s Diner after baseball practice. Word is you love their fries.” Stiles scoffs playfully, “Oh my God, who ratted me out?” Derek just laughs, pretending to zip his mouth shut. “Really, though,” he says, “wanna come?” 

Derek is fully expecting stiles to say no. Derek swaggered over, interrupting his conversation with Scott, and now, Stiles was going to turn him down. So, it makes sense that Derek stops breathing when Stiles says yes.

“Yes? Like, you’re agreeing to this?”

Stiles smiles from ear to ear. “Yeah, Derek. It’s just some food after practice.” That stops Derek short. It’s just some food after baseball practice. It’s not a date, just two bros, chilling in a diner booth, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay. Derek wants them to be gay so bad.

“Okay,” Derek says instead, “I’ll see you after school.”

Stiles makes little finger guns as Derek walks away and the ‘wolf wants to hide. This is really the guy he wants to spend his time with. 

Isaac is cackling when Derek walks back over. “Oh my goodness,” the blond laughs, “Did you see the fucking finger guns?” Derek rolls his eyes for what he thinks is the millionth time that hour and slaps Isaac in the back of the head. Erica barks out a laugh as Isaac cradles his head.

“Don’t mess with his boy,” she taunts with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Isaac flips her off.

*

Stiles is leaning against his jeep when he sees Derek pull up into the parking lot at Connie’s. He’s driving a black Camaro instead of the usual Toyota, so Stiles assumes that Derek’s equally terrifying older sister is home from college. Derek looks so good climbing out of that car: dark hair just as sleek as the car’s paint, leather jacket just as intimidating. Stiles bites his lip, refocusing himself. This isn’t a date, he can’t forget that.

“So,” Stiles starts as soon as Derek is close enough, “Booth or table.” Derek smiles, he does that a lot now that he and Stiles are friends, and playfully demands a booth. “What if my sister see me? She’s embarrassing; I hope you never meet her.” Stiles barks out a laugh, “Oh, not I have to meet her.’

The conversation stays consistent as time passes. There’s a lull as they order and as they eat, but Stiles makes sure to fill in whatever gaps he can. It, surprisingly, gets better. Derek opens up more about his life and his family; he has two sisters and two brothers, plus a bot bit of his extended family lives on the same property as him. Stiles jokes about how privacy must be nonexistent with such a big family, and Derek turns absolutely red. “You have no idea,” he jokes.

It’s almost 8:30 when they finally stop talking – Derek’s mother calls to remind him of his curfew. Stiles sighes, he was having fun, but he knows that his father will be calling him soon, too. So, Stiles pulls out his wallet, ready to pay for his burger and fries, when Derek stops him. 

“I got it.”

“Dude, seriously, you don’t have you pay for me.”

“What if I want to?”

Stiles frowns. “You don’t have to pay, Derek,” the brunet insists, placing his hand on top of Derek’s, “It’s not like we’re on a date.” Derek ducks his head, and Stiles can see a sheen of pink crawling up the other teen’s neck. Oh God! This was a date! And Stiles just said that. Shit! Stiles referred to the whole excursion as two dudes hanging out… when Derek was actually asking him out!

“Oh, my God,” Stiles says out loud. “This-”

“Was supposed to be a date? Yeah.”

“Oh, Derek I’m so sorry-”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. We can still be friends.”

“What? No!” and Stiles has to retract his statement as a flash of hurt skips across Derek’s face. “I didn’t mean it like that,” the brunet tries, starting to explain.” I- I don’t want to be friends. I want to go on dates and stuff, and hang out more.”

“You do? Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah, I really do.”


End file.
